Tue Mar 28 23:30:00 EAT 2017

My enemies are at it again

When I lost more than Sh24,000 in a certain “SGR scandal” that was orchestrated by pupils, I counted my losses, forgave and forgot, and moved on with my enviable life as if nothing had happened. I did not see the need to call in Edward Ouko to audit how the loss had happened. In any case, just like me, Edward Ouko was having his own battles and I doubt he would have had time to investigate the blatant abuse of office (or is it classroom?) that the pupils had so shamelessly displayed.

In Summary

But you know something about the truth, you cannot hide it for too long. It did not take long for it to be known that the entire thing was a high-level scheme orchestrated by my professional enemies. And it was part of a scheme to prevent me from becoming the next headmaster of this school, something that was ordained by God Himself.

Mwalimu Andrew

When I lost more than Sh24,000 in a certain “SGR scandal” that was orchestrated by pupils, I counted my losses, forgave and forgot, and moved on with my enviable life as if nothing had happened. I did not see the need to call in Edward Ouko to audit how the loss had happened. In any case, just like me, Edward Ouko was having his own battles and I doubt he would have had time to investigate the blatant abuse of office (or is it classroom?) that the pupils had so shamelessly displayed.

But you know something about the truth, you cannot hide it for too long. It did not take long for it to be known that the entire thing was a high-level scheme orchestrated by my professional enemies. And it was part of a scheme to prevent me from becoming the next headmaster of this school, something that was ordained by God Himself.

As an original, authentic, true son of Mwisho wa Lami, any forward thinking friend of development will accept that I am supposed to be the headmaster of Mwisho wa Lami Primary. Yet, despite the fact that I am the most educated, most travelled, most experienced and most exposed teacher, my enemies of development are inviting me for a fight with Kuya. They want to ensure that I spend a lot of time defending my position as the deputy, when I should be focusing on becoming the next HM.

But the worst of it all, and what Kuya doesn’t know, is that he is just being used to fight me. He is a puppet of enemies of development wakujitakia makuu who are only interested in controlling affairs of this school, and who are afraid that their unwelcome influence will not be accommodated by a strong personality like mine. They did not start recently, and I doubt that they will succeed now.

So I was not surprised when they tried to make a mountain out of the mole hill that is the maize planting debacle. As I had mentioned here last week, this was purely a home matter that should never have come to school. Yet someone brought it to the school’s attention.

It all started last Tuesday. That day I spent the morning imparting Swahili wisdom to the future leaders of this country and I noticed that Kuya spent quite a long time in Catherine’s office. They sent a prefect to call Clinton. After sometime, Clinton came back to class and he called Shasa, one of the girls that had been part of the team that planted for me, and who had revealed everything to me. She also spent some time with the HM and Kuya. Since Kuya never spent time with the HM apart from when he is fighting me, I did not need a geometrical set to know what this was all about.

And I wasn’t wrong, for no sooner had I left class than I was called to Catherine’s office. She closed the door behind us.

“Dre, what is this I am hearing about planting?” she asked.

“Don’t remind me about that story Cate,” I said, trying to call her in a way that went straight to her heart, with the clear plan of destabilising her emotionally.

“Please call me Madam Catherine,” she said. “Please.”

“Yes Catherine,” I corrected myself. “That’s not something I want to discuss. Those village mates finished me.”

“What do you mean village mates?” she asked. “Clinton and Shasa are not your village mates,” she said firmly. “They are your pupils.”

“You have a point but you are wrong,” I said. “When we are here in school they are my pupils; but out there, they are my village mates. And I would treat them as such.” I then added something else that, with hindsight, I should never have added.